Destiny Grown Cold
by tikinottyki
Summary: Akidzuki was truly loved by everyone in his tiny village; a loving mother and cheerful neighbors. He was the most blessed eight year old on the earth. However, what fate changed this happy boy into a cold and quiet wandering samurai? Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Akidzuki Youjirou was once a happy child. Although he lived in a poor village, the boy was the richest at heart. On a normal day, when he made his way to the river to wash the dirty clothes, the villagers would call out good morning to him. The children flocked around Youjirou with bright smiles, tugging on his sleeves and begging him to play with them. And, as usual, Youjirou would laugh and say he was busy.

That laugh, was fake, though. Behind the smiles, hidden by the laughter, was a dark secret Youjirou never told anyone: his mother was deathly ill.

It had been a while after his mother first got sick; it was almost too sudden when it happened. One morning, Youjirou woke up to his mother cooking miso soup and fish, and by dinner, she was coughing up blood and could barely move. No one really noticed, though; after Youjirou's father had left for the war a year earlier, his mother had hardly left their little home.

The closest doctor was over fifty miles away, a good three to four day walk. Plus, Youjirou's family of two couldn't afford a doctor. At the age of eight, Youjirou was too young to work, and his mother was too weak. Still, every moment he had with his mother was more than enough. He was still happy, and that was all his mother wanted.

"I'm going to the river!" Youjirou called to his mother as he slid on his sandals and reached for the basket of clothing. "Do you want me to go by Hina-san's and pick up some fabric?"

His mother knelt down behind him, wrapping her arms around her son's neck and pulling him close to her. "You-chan, you are the best little boy a mother could ask for," she said softly, roughing up Youjirou's thick brown hair.

"Okaasan!" Youjirou laughed, placing his small hands over his mother's and rocking back and forth.

They were so cold, his mother's hands. Whether it be by her illness, or from her kindness, little Youjirou didn't know; he was told that people with cold hands were nice, so right now he was glad of his mother's hands. He loved her so much. He loved her kindness.

"Go on," his mother said with a slight push to the small of his back. "If you do not get to the river in time, the other villagers will have taken all the best spots for laundry."

"Oh, right!" Youjirou chimed as he took the basket of clothes and strapped it to his back. "I'll be back!"

The village came to a high point in the center of the markets; every day, Youjirou would stop there and turn back to see his mother still standing by the door, waving at him. She was so beautiful, his mother. Her long dark brown hair was kept up in a large bun, her thick bangs curled back to frame the perfect oval frame of her face. A large hairpin, a family heirloom, held her hair together; the delicate wood had been painted with bright red and yellow, and fancy engravings of koi and cranes decorated it. Out of everything she and Youjirou owned, the hairpin had to be the most precious and expensive item. And her eyes… everyone said that Youjirou's eyes were just like his mother's: all knowing. The icy spark behind them seemed to delve into the darkest parts of people's souls.

"Ohaiyo gozaimasu, You-kun!"

Youjirou turned to see a small crowd of children skip towards him, passing a small home-made ball between them. "Minasan ohaiyo gozaimasu," he replied, adjusting the basket on his back.

"Kaoru's dad made a ball!" one child stated picking up the crudely wrapped leather ball. "Do you wanna play with us?"

"I can't," Youjirou replied, nodding back to his load. "I have to do laundry for okaasan and pick up some fabric."

The children moaned in unison, looking down to their dusty feet. "You-kun, you never play with us. It's like you're an adult already!" Kaoru cried.

With a smile, Youjirou patted the girl's head lightly. "I am not an adult; I may be older than you, but I am still a kid. I promise I will play with you when I'm done."

Kaoru's scowl faded into a wide grin. "Okay! Arigatou gozaimasu, You-kun!"

The children's voices faded as Youjirou continued on toward the river, a small frown on his face. He felt bad refusing to play with the other children, but he had things to do and people to see. Now that his small eight year old mind was turning, he thought over what little Kaoru had said. Was he really turning into an adult? He never thought much of playing, but, rather, of taking care of his mother. Since his dad was gone, he was the man of the house now. That meant he had to take care of everything. And playing ball wasn't what an adult did.

"Oh, look who it is, Kotone," an elderly woman stated as Youjirou appeared at the river's edge. "It's our little Youjirou."

"Ohaiyo Kotone-san, Ran-san," the boy said as he unstrapped the basket of clothes and set it on the ground to roll up his wide sleeves. "How are you doing today?"

Kotone nodded towards her friend, saying, "Good, though better now that we have you to talk to."

Youjirou smiled; he liked these old women. Without fail, they were always at the river to do their laundry with him. It seemed like he got along better with them than the children in the village. "Is there any news from the outside, Ran-san?" he asked before wading out knee deep into the warm water and dunking a muddied black hakama into the clear water.

Ran stood straight, pressing her tired hands against her aching back. "There is, in fact," she said. "The Shinsengumi just ended a rebellion in the Kyoto area; something about the Ishin Shishi Rebels trying to set fire to Kyoto."

"So that means that the rumors are true? The Ishin Shishi is revolting against the shogunate? " Youjirou asked.

Kotone looked uneasy. "Maybe. There are some who will not allow that to happen… honestly, it is too early to tell anything." She bent down to dunk a sash in the water and wring out the excess moisture, pulling tightly on the cloth with her old fingers. "How is your mother doing?" she asked suddenly, switching to a lighter subject.

Youjirou smiled gently and looked down to the wet clothes he held. "She's doing well," he lied.

Ran smiled, showing off her many missing teeth. "Good. I have not seen Miku come out to the village in a while; the last time I saw her, she looked quite pale," she commented to her white haired friend.

"Poor child; she's almost become a different person since _he_ left."

Youjirou did not like it when the villagers talked of his father. True, he went off to war and left a wife and young child behind, but that didn't make him a bad man… did it? Besides, it wasn't his father's absence that changed his mother; it was her illness.

"Oh? Already done with your laundry, Youjirou?" Ran asked when she noticed the boy begin to shoulder his basket of now wet clothes.

"Yes; there was not much to do today," he replied. "I need to see Hina-san now."

"Well, tell her hello for us," Kotone said with a wink.

The boy nodded, a wide grin on his pale face. "Hai!"

The basket was heavy on his back as he climbed up the hill to the center of the village. Hina was one of his mother's friends whose husband also went off to war. However, Hina had no children. She was only sixteen, so there was still time for her to start and raise a family; still, she must have been rather lonely with no one else in the house.

Nakano Hina was fairly new to the small village; Youjirou guessed that's why his mother and she got along so well. Hina wove beautiful cloths and fabrics back at her home in Kyoto, making elegant kimonos and flamboyant curtains. Now that she was here, the villagers could acquire clothing and other materials at reasonable prices. Hina wasn't interested in money, though. She just wanted the villagers to be happy.

"Ohaiyo, You-chan," Hina's soft voice called from the window as Youjirou passed by.

"Ohaiyo," Youjirou replied, setting the basket of clothes to the side to give his back and shoulders a rest. "Okaasan wanted me to see you today."

Hina smiled, twisting away from the window. Soon, the door opened and the young wife stepped out dressed in a new green and yellow kimono. Youjirou was left in awe at the intricacy of the designs and difficult weaving, his blue eyes widening. "It's… it's so beautiful…" he breathed.

The girl arched her back as she examined her handiwork. "Arigatou. I just finished it yesterday; I'm going to wear this when my husband gets back." She blushed slightly, bringing her delicate fingers to her chin. "My husband… it is still so strange to say those two words."

Youjirou nodded, pretending to understand; he knew it was typical for women to marry young, but he never understood the reasoning behind it. His mother was only seventeen when she gave birth to him, so why would Hina still be blushing over being a newlywed? It was probably a woman thing Youjirou would never understand.

"Okaasan told me that I needed to pick up some fabric from you," he said politely, interrupting Hina's thoughts.

"The fabric? Oh right." Hina turned away for a brief moment before pausing and turning back to the boy. "Actually, I have a better idea. Would you like to come in for a second?"

Youjirou had never been in Hina's home before. In fact, this was the first time she ever invited him in. "Hai," he said as he began to remove his sandals.

The house was sparsely decorated just like Youjirou's home. A small square table with fluffy pillows was the main center piece, and a large window illuminated the room. Off to the corner was an unfinished project of Hina's, probably another kimono. The cloth was a light violet color, reminding Youjirou of the light pinks and purples in the sunsets. Small crane designs embroidered the sleeves.

"I need one more layer before I can complete this, and I still have trouble figuring out what color to use. Could you help me?"

Youjirou stared blankly at the many colors of cloth that lined the floor. Reds, blues, yellows, blacks, greens… there must have been every color! "I don't know," he said, looking up to Hina. "How can I help?"

Hina knelt down to Youjirou's height, pushing wispy black bangs from her round face. "Stand here," she said, taking Youjirou gently by the shoulders and moving him into the light of the window. She then smiled, tapping him lightly on the nose with her long finger. "You have such amazing blue eyes… you and your mother both." She reached down to pick up a small cut of fabric, a silvery blue color, and held it by Youjirou's face. A sweet smile spread her plump lips. "Yes…. That's the color," she whispered.

In the mirror behind Hina, Youjirou could barely see his reflection, but it was there. His bright blue eyes seemed to shine brightly with the silvery blue sheen of the fabric. Until now, Youjirou never realized how powerful his eyes were.

"I think I will make this for your mother; I'm sure she will want to look nice when your father gets home," Hina said as she stood and dusted off her knees.

Youjirou smiled; it wasn't fake, but genuine. The first genuine smile that lit up his face ever since his mother got sick. "Arigatou, Hina-san!" he said.

"Well, you picked out the color; I should be the one thanking you. Now, you should probably get home. Your clothes will mold if they stay wet."

The boy was all smiles when he left Hina's home. A new gift for mother… that's just what she needed! Youjirou tried to imagine his mother wearing the beautiful kimono and smiled at the thought of it. With the basket strapped to his back, Youjirou raced home, excited to tell his mother what Hina was making for her.

"Okaasan! Okaasan!" he called as he threw the door open and sprinted inside. "Okaasan, guess what? Hina-san is making you a-"

He was cut short by the sight of his mother lying face down, blood staining her hands. Her blue eyes were staring at the floor, unmoving and dull. Youjirou quickly dropped the basket from his shoulders, his eyes wide in shock and fingers trembling.

"O-okaasan!" The boy fell to his mother's side, shaking her shoulder lightly. "Okaasan, wake up! Okaasan!"

"You… jirou…"

His mother's fingers were cold on his cheek. It wasn't a kind cold; it was like death's icy grip. Youjirou stared down to his mother, forcing back the moisture that had begun to build up in his eyes. "Okaasan… what happened?" he choked.

"Go… go to the village… find… help…"

Blood streaks lined Youjirou's face as his mother's stained fingers fell from his cheek to the ground. His fists were clenched as he ran outside, and his heart pounded furiously at his tiny chest. "Somebody… help okaasan…" he muttered. "Somebody…

Somebody help me!!"


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three days since the incident. Youjirou's mother was still feverish, and she spent most of the time sleeping now. Ran and Kotone had given up their laundry duties to stay with Youjirou and Miku, each taking turns watching the sick woman. But the fourth day was different; the fourth day would change Youjirou's life.

"She's running a high fever," Ran murmured as she wrung out a wet cloth and placed it on Miku's forehead.

Youjirou sat huddled in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest and head lowered. He was hurting inside, but nothing could compare to the guilt that had built up in his heart. His beloved mother, the only family he had, was dying.

"You… jirou…"

The boy looked up at the sound of his mother's strained voice, wiping the tears from his eyes. "H-hai?"

Miku stretched her hand towards her son, beckoning him. "Come here," she rasped.

It felt as if ice was being pressed against Youjirou's cheeks as his mother cupped his face in her hands. A weak smile brightened Miku's pale face as she said, "No matter what happens… I want you to be happy…"

"Okaasan…" Youjirou muttered as he closed his eyes and clenched tightly to his wide sleeves. "I can't pretend to be happy anymore."

Kotone leaned down to Youjirou, resting her old shaking hand on his head. "Why didn't you tell us, Youjirou? We would have helped sooner had we known," she said gently.

"Okaasan and I… we were happy," his small voice choked. "I just wanted everything to be all right and not have to worry…"

"Youjirou…"

He looked up to see his mother point to the dresser she kept her trinkets and memoirs hidden away. On top of it was the hairpin she always wore, the one that had been passed down for many generations. The wooden hairpiece felt so light and fragile in his small boyish hands. "This?" he asked, kneeling back down to his mother's side.

"Hai… I want you to use it… pay for the doctor…" Miku said slowly as she pushed back Youjirou's thick brown hair and smiled. "It should… be enough…"

"But Okaasan!" he retorted. "I can't! This is yours!"

"Sell it," Miku repeated. "It will help… make okaasan better…"

Youjirou looked back down to the hairpiece, his bottom lip trembling. It was only a piece of wood, if you think about it, but it was the most beautiful thing Miku had. Youjirou couldn't sell it. But he had to.

"Hai… Okaasan…" He stood, turning to Ran and Kotone with the hairpiece held up. "Could you please wrap this?"

As Kotone gently wrapped the wooden hairpiece in a protective layer of cloth, Ran helped Youjirou pack a small bag of food and clothes. "You know the way to the other village, hai? Take the main path and it will get you there in three days tops," she said as she strapped the bag to Youjirou's back.

"Hai," Youjirou said as he took the hairpin from Kotone and slid it into the pouch of his sleeve. "I'll be careful."

"Ohaiyo! Ran-san! Kotone-san!"

Kotone ran to the door, peeking out. "Oh, Hina-chan! Come in, come in!" she exclaimed, opening the door wider.

Hina stepped in with a pack on her back and a worried expression on her face. She was wearing her old worn down sandals and a yukata with fading flowers and dragons, and her hair had been tied up messily in a dirty bun. Just like everyone else in the village, she had been praying relentlessly for Miku. A small grimace wore at her usually smiling face when she saw Youjirou packed for a journey. "You're going off to the village, hai?" she asked.

Youjirou nodded. "Hai," he replied thickly.

"It's a good thing I caught you before you left. Do you remember our little present?" Hina asked as she unstrapped the pack and laid it at Miku's side.

The kimono.

Hina must have been working on it as much as she had been praying. Miku softly laid a hand over her young friend's. "Arigatou, Hina-san, you didn't have to do this for me," she said weakly.

Hina knelt down and undid the bind on the pack. "But I did. At first, it was a gift for when your husband comes home. Now it will be a lasting memoir for you to wear to the next world," she said, pulling back the folds of paper to reveal the kimono.

It looked like something from the heavens. The bright and shining colors reflected in Youjirou's ice blue eyes, a shimmer that would never fade. The cranes that lined along the sleeves seemed to soar over the left shoulder and neckline gradually faded away into faded silver, and along the folds of the skirt were delicate cranes and flowers, all of the silvery blue color Youjirou had helped pick out. The sash to be tied around the waist was of the same silver blue, woven in a strange weave Youjirou had never seen before. The moment his mother wore this, she would look like a goddess.

"Hina-san… it's beautiful!" Miku gasped as she took the soft fabric in her hands and massaged her finger tips over the weavings. "How could I ever repay you?"

"Don't worry about payment. It is a gift from Youjirou and I," Hina said, nodding towards the boy.

Miku smiled as she turned to her son, beckoning him to her. "I must be the most blessed woman on the face of the earth," she whispered into his hair as she drew him in tightly, embracing him as if she would never let go. "My son… you will be a great man one day…"

Youjirou's tears moistened his mother's clothing as he clung tighter to her. "I'm not strong… I will never be like Otoosan…"

"Yes you will… don't doubt yourself, Youjirou," Miku whispered. "You are twice the man he was."

Youjirou pulled away to see tears begin to form in his mother's eyes, even as she smiled down at him. He knew what he had to do. With a determined face and fierce eyes, Youjirou nodded and bowed. "I will be back, Okaasan. I promise… I will come back and make you better."

Miku wiped away her tears and gripped her son gently by his shoulder. "You're no longer a child, Youjirou. You're a young man." Then she looked up to Hina, asking, "Could you go with him to the edge of the village?"

Hina nodded. "Hai," she said, standing and reaching for Youjirou. "Let's go, You-chan. You can't wait any longer."

Youjirou followed Hina out of the house, looking back to see his mother waving good bye. He smiled to himself; he was sure to return to that same smile. "Hina-san, will Okaasan be okay?" he asked, turning back to the sixteen year old.

She shrugged, saying, "I don't know. The villagers have been praying like fanatics for the past three days; I hope something comes out of it all. I will be praying extra for you; it's a long way to the next village. I would go with you, but I have things to tend to. The soldiers are supposed to be back later on this week."

The boy was truly shocked. The soldiers? The Shinsengumi were coming back? Then Otoosan… "They are coming home?" Youjirou repeated.

"Hai. Your father and my husband. Now that the rebellions in Kyoto have ended and the British government officials are talking peace with the shogunate, things will go back to normal."

It had been so long since Youjirou had seen his father. His mother had pictures of him to remind her of what he looked like, but she stopped looking at them six months back. Youjirou had seen them, of course. He had acquired his father's narrow eyes and oval face, but his thick brown hair, thin eyebrows, and ice blue eyes were all from his mother. Other than the pictures, however, Youjirou did not know much else other than the fact that his father was a member of the Shinsengumi, the Japan Police Force. And now he was coming home after a year away.

"Will you be alright by yourself?"

Youjirou blinked. Already, he and Hina were standing at the edge of the village border, facing the large empty road that would lead him to the next village. "Hai, I will be fine. Arigatou, Hina-san."

"Here." Hina knelt down to place a small beaded bracelet in his open palm. "Prayer beads. If anything happens, hold these and pray to the gods for guidance. Be safe."

Youjirou nodded, tightening his hold on the beads and holding it to his chest. "Hai. I won't fail the village, Hina-san… and I won't fail Okaasan…"


	3. Chapter 3

About half way into the first day of his trek, Youjirou found that it would take longer than three days to reach his destination. His feet were sore from the many hours of walking and his stomach yearned for food. With a sigh, the determined eight year old pushed onward despite these two distractions.

There weren't many passerby's on the road; once Youjirou passed by a rice paddy field and watched the two workers as they waded in the calf high water. They weren't from the neighboring village, though, but instead were just farmers scratching to make a living. Other than that, Youjirou saw no other signs of life save for the birds in the sky.

When the sun was halfway through its cycle, Youjirou finally told himself it was time to rest. He sat on a boulder off the side of the road and opened his pack. He smiled to himself when he saw the small rice balls and salted meat. Kotone and Ran must have worked hard to acquire suck delicacies since the village's main source of meat was fish. No, this was like eating domburi with gyudon topping, only without the bowl. This was heavenly. He ate in silence, looking up to the sun and clicking his heels against the rock.

"I wonder how many miles I've walked," he muttered to himself. "Everything around here looks the same…"

Once he had finished his quick meal, the boy slid off his perch on the rock and continued on his way. A little while later, he found a short stick just the right height for him to lean on as he walked. When he got bored, he would pretend that he was a member of the Shinsengumi, like his father, and sword fight with the stick. Why not? His mother said he would grow up to be a great man, so why not become a samurai? They were strong and respected in Japan, and did many great things for the shogun. Youjirou could do the same.

Night came fast, though, and yet Youjirou felt as if he had not made much distance from the village. As he moved a few yards from the road and laid out on the grass, he couldn't help but suddenly grow sad as he looked up to the stars.

This would be the first night he would spend alone.

It wasn't that he was afraid of the dark, but rather that he was lonely. His mother always slept with him, her arms wrapped protectively around him and his head tucked under her chin. Every once in a while Miku would sing softly as she traced little designs on her son's face with her fingertips.

Youjirou rolled over, staring at the moonlit road and shivering lightly with the cool breeze. And then, with a soft voice, he sang his mother's words, closing his eyes and imagining her presence.

"_Hitotsu, higure ni gan kakete  
Futatsu, fudasho ni tsukimisou  
Mittsu, misora ga akeru koro  
Yottsu, yonaki no ko wo oute  
Itsutsu, itsumade tsukeba yoi  
Muttsu, mukae ni konu haha ni  
Nanatsu, naisho de uramigoto  
Yattsu, yamanba konu uchi ni  
Kokonotsu, ko wo sute yama koete  
Too de onigo ni narimashita"_

The sun had begun to rise when Youjirou woke the next morning. He sat up slowly, scruffing up his tangled hair and dusting the leaves from his clothes. He breathed in the humid air; it was going to rain later on, he could tell… which meant he had to make more distance today. Shouldering his pack, the boy stumbled back on the road and continued on his way. About an hour from where he stopped for the night was a tall ledge that loomed over the upper layer of a thick forest. Youjirou climbed the ledge, figuring he might be able to see his village from there.

He could.

It looked so far away from where he was now, only a miniature opening of land in the distance. Youjirou smiled to himself; he must have covered between ten and fifteen miles the previous day. "Don't worry, Okaasan," he said. "I'll be back soon."

"Oh, what do we have here? A lost boy?"

Youjirou turned to see three boys, all of whom looked to be in their teens. Above all else, there was nothing good about them. "I'm not lost," he replied, facing them. "I'm going to get the doctor for Okaasan."

One boy tilted his head to the side, one eye narrowed. "So you're not lost? Well, we are. We've been wandering for days and have had barely enough to eat. Would you mind giving us some food?"

Youjirou may have been a child, but he wasn't stupid. He instinctively readjusted his pack on his shoulders, saying, "I can't. I only have enough to last me to the village."

The leader knelt down to his height, gripping his shoulder with long boney fingers. "You're going to give us food, or else we'll find a way to take it from you," he threatened.

At first, Youjirou didn't know what to do. He had never been in a fight before, but a sudden burning heat began to rise up in his gut and face. Without much thought, Youjirou clenched his fist and delivered a smacking blow to the boy's face.

"Gaah!"

His heart leapt as he raced passed the other two boys and ran for the woods. The foliage was thick enough that he could hide, but he soon found that he was being followed. The strap on his sandal suddenly broke, sending him hurdling into a thick cluster of large leaves. Rolling over on his stomach, Youjirou was relieved to be hidden from the boys and huddled down close to the ground.

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know; I think he fell here."

"Well, stop talking and start looking!"

Youjirou reached into the pouch of his sleeve and clutched Hina's prayer beads tightly, praying silently for help and protection. But his prayers were never answered. One of the boys tripped over him, falling head first into the ground.

"There he is!" the leader shouted. "Get him!"

Before Youjirou could stand and run, one of the boys grabbed him roughly by the collar and pushed him to the ground, sitting on his stomach and holding his arms to the ground. The prayer beads were wrenched from his hand and stuffed into the leader's waist pouch. Then the boy nodded to his followers, who dragged Youjirou to his feet and held him in place.

"You should know better than to punch me, brat," the boy growled as he balled up his fist and rammed it into Youjirou's gut.

The eight year old hacked up a mixture of vomit and saliva, the air driven from his lungs. But it didn't end there. When the boys were done, Youjirou's face was bruised and bloodied, and his clothes were torn. His stomach was sore from the many hits he had received and his knees began to buckle. As he fought back for his food pack, his mother's hairpiece fell from his sleeve. His eyes widened as the leader picked it up and unwrapped the protective layers of cloth to reveal the brightly colored wooden piece. "What have we here?" he asked, looking back to Youjirou.

"No! Please, don't take it!" Youjirou cried. "Okaasan… Okaasan is sick, and I need that to pay for the doctor! Please! Take the food, but don't… don't take that…"

The boys watched as tears began to stream down Youjirou's face. The leader looked back to the hairpiece, scowling. "I won't take it," he said as he tossed it to the ground.

Youjirou was relieved. He fell forward on his knees, reaching for the hairpiece. As his fingers grasped the pin, however, the leader stomped his heel on Youjirou's hand, crushing the wooden hairpiece. Youjirou screamed as the splintered wood drove into his palm, the warm blood oozing from the wound.

"Oops," the leader said with a shrug, "looks like you broke it." Then he looked up to his two friends, saying, "We're done here."

As the boys walked away, Youjirou couldn't help but stare at his open palm, which held the three bloody pieces of what used to be his mother's last hope. Thos three pieces would be meaningless to any doctor now.

"Okaasan… I'm sorry…"


	4. Chapter 4

_'Alo! I'm back from break, which means fanfics to catch up on! Woot ^^ Anyways, I've been working slowly (but surely) to get my stories all in order. Thanks again for reading and look for an update in the near future!_

Youjirou winced as he picked out another piece of wood from his palm. All that was left were splinters now, and there was no way his clumsy boyish fingers could get them out. Luckily there was a cold stream nearby where he would wash his muddied face and numb the stinging in his hand, but nothing could wash away the agony in his heart.

He had failed his dying mother.

Not that he could not pay for the doctor, there was no point in going on. But he was determined to help his mother. There were other ways to pay for a doctor; maybe he could work in the streets, and, if need be, pick-pocket. He shook his head at the latter option. His mother taught him to be honorable, and stealing would only tarnish her teachings.

So, driven with this in mind, he kept walking. Even after the sun had set and the moon claimed its place in the night sky, Youjirou's tired feet trudged on. When he finally stopped, his feet were dirty and scraped, and his legs ached with exhaustion. Youjirou collapsed on the side of the road, too tired to move to a softer patch of ground.

"_Hitotsu, higure… ni gan… kakete  
Futatsu… fudasho ni tsu…kimisou…"_

Youjirou's trembling voice faded as he buried his face into the dirt and cried. Every time he sang his mother's song, he thought back to the broken hairpiece. His eight year old heart had finally broken, and all the pain that had built up over the past year overwhelmed him.

"Okaasan… I'm not strong… like Otoosan… I… I failed…"

"Failed? How have you failed, young one?"

The soft voice startled Youjirou. Looking up, he saw a tall woman standing over him, her dark eyes staring down at him. Thick black hair had been tied back into a fancy bun, and thick makeup covered her face, making her wide eyes appear wider. She wore a bright red kimono with gold flowers pattering across the fabric, and the sandals she wore made her a few inches taller. A tayū. "W-who are you?" he asked shakily.

She knelt down, holding out her hand and smiling gently. "Never mind that for now; you're hurt. Come with me, and I'll treat your wounds."

Youjirou's hand was so dirty in comparison to the woman's small pale hand. Her dark eyes were warm and kind as they stared back into Youjirou's bright eyes. "A-arigatou," the boy muttered as the woman helped him up.

"You're a mess," the woman stated as she dusted off Youjirou's tattered clothes. "I might have something you can wear instead of these rags."

At the top of a hill, silhouetted by the moonlight, was a small coach from Britain. This was the first time Youjirou had ever seen such a thing. The wooden wheels were as tall as the boy and as wide as he could stretch his arms. Two black horses waited impatiently at the front, pawing anxiously at the ground. Youjirou's blue eyes gazed up towards a man who sat at the top of the coach, wearing a dark coat and tall European hat.

"What's your name, child?" the woman asked as she opened the coach door and beckoned for Youjirou to climb in.

The boy lowered his head, blushing slightly. "Akidzuki Youjirou," he replied.

"A good name for a strong young man like you." the woman asked as she watched Youjirou clamber into the coach. "There should be a yukata over there, in the corner. I'm sorry I don't have any little boy's clothing, but that will have to do until we get to the village."

Youjirou bent to pick up the yukata and wrinkled his nose. To be forced to wear _women'_s clothes… a strong young man would never do that. "Is this all, Mi-" He turned to see that the woman had shut the door behind him and couldn't hear a word he was saying. Youjirou sighed, looking back to the dark green yukata he now held.

The yukata, of course, was too big for him, but it was the smallest thing the woman had. When he had adjusted the cloth over his shoulders and tied the yukata tightly around his waist, he opened the door and said, "I'm done, Miss."

The woman nodded and climbed in and slammed the door shut as the horses began to drive off. "So, You-chan, what happened?" the tayū asked as she patted the seat beside her.

Youjirou smiled weakly, sliding onto the seat and keeping his gaze low. "Okaasan is really sick, so she asked me to go to the doctor and bring him to our village." Here, he produced the broken hairpin from his pile of discarded clothes on the floor of the coach. "I was supposed to use this to pay, but I was attacked this morning by bandits. Okaasan… she's dying."

The woman took the broken pieces, holding them gently as she studied the wooden engravings. "This would not have been able to pay for a doctor. It must have been a lovely hair piece, though," she said as she handed the pieces back.

Youjirou's eyes widened. The hairpin wouldn't have been enough? But is mother said to use it, so why would she send him away on false hope? "I don't understand," he mumbled as he stared blankly at the broken pieces in his open palm.

"You-chan, your hand," the woman gasped, taking Youjirou's wounded hand and studying his palm. "This will get infected if you don't get it treated."

"But… I can't pay for a doctor to help Okaasan, let alone me," came the shaky reply.

The woman chuckled lightly. "Don't worry you won't need to pay." She then knelt down and reached for a small bag, taking out a white sash and dipping it in a small bottle of European alcohol. "This will sting a little," the woman warned before dabbing the saturated cloth on the open wound.

Tears welled up in Youjirou's eyes, but he didn't squirm or cry out. Instead, he bit down on his bottom lip. The sharp stinging died way, leaving only a white bubbly substance to clean the wound. Then the woman tore off a section of the sash, wrapping it tightly around Youjirou's hand. "There, that should be enough," she said.

Youjirou looked down at his newly bandaged hand, smiling slightly. "Arigatou, Miss," he stated, drawing his hand to his chest.

"Don't call me 'Miss'," the woman said. "My name is Takanaga Sayuri."

Sayuri… Little Lily. Now that Youjirou looked up to her, she did remind him of a lily, a beautiful white lily.

Youjirou yawned, stretching his aching limbs and arching his tired back. Sayuri couldn't help but laugh at the innocence of the boy, and lightly patted his head. "You've been walking all day, haven't you?" she asked, to which Youjirou nodded sleepily.

The young boy felt at peace when Sayuri, who was almost a complete stranger to him, put her arm around him and drew him to her side, the sound of her heartbeat a soothing melody. Youjirou's mother did this when he had trouble going to sleep, the simple beat of her heart lulling him into a calm, deep sleep.

"I will take you to the village, and, if need be, even take you back to your village. Your mother must be very proud to have a son like you, You-chan," Sayuri said calmly.

A sweet smile formed on Youjirou's oval face as he heard Sayuri's words. "Arigatou," he whispered before falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"You-chan, wake up. We're here."

Youjirou's eyes fluttered slowly open as he stirred awake, the small rays of light illuminating his face. Sayuri smiled down on him, a soft chuckle escaping her plump red lips. "You have quite lovely morning hair, child," she said playfully.

The boy sat up, roughing up his hair with tired hands and shaking himself awake. "We're… here?" he asked with a yawn.

"Yes," the tayū replied. "I've already gone out to the market and bought you a change of clothes and food. Here," she said, handing him a deep indigo colored kimono with a white hakama. The fabric felt so soft in his coarse hands compared to the rough material he usually wore.

"Arigatou!" he chimed as he pressed the cloth to his face and smiled.

Sayuri smiled. "Anything to help. Hurry and change; you're probably hungry."

The boy sat there for a short while after Sayuri closed the coach door, holding the clothes tightly. He wondered if Hina had made things like this in markets back at Kyoto. The craftsmanship was like hers, delicate and strong at the same time. The fabric felt expensive, though. How much had Sayuri paid for it? With a happy shrug, he quickly changed, folding the tayū's yukata neatly and setting it on the floor of the coach along with her bags. When he stepped out of the coach to find Sayuri, he was in awe of the liveliness of the early morning. The village streets were filled with people, markets were thriving, and children wove in and out of the dense crowds. The smell of tamagoyaki and onsen tamago lifted his spirits until his stomach let out a load groan of hunger. "Oh," he mumbled, setting his hands on his empty stomach.

Sayuri's hand lightly patted Youjirou's head. "This way, You-chan. There's an empty space over there we can eat breakfast," she said, pointing to a lone tree off by the gate not far away.

The noise of the village seemed to die away completely when Sayuri set out breakfast on a small blanket. Youjirou quickly sat, tucking his legs under him and setting his hands on his knees. "Sayuri-san," he began as the woman handed him a small bowl of miso soup and rice, "I wanted to say thank you again for helping me. I… I don't know if I can ever pay you back, though."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about paying me back, You-chan. Your mother deserves this, and so do you." She took her small cup, holding it up and saying, "To your mother's health," before taking a short sip.

Youjirou smiled, lowering his head. "Arigatou." After finishing his breakfast, Youjirou leaned back and looked around at the village before them. "The doctor is nearby, right? I can't pay him, but I can become his apprentice to earn money."

Sayuri looked down questioningly to him. "Child, by the time you would earn enough, your mother may have passed on to the next world. No, I will not allow that. I told you I would help, even if that means I have to spend all I have."

Youjirou's blue eyes widened; this woman was so kind and gracious. Had he come across someone else, he wouldn't have been so fortunate. "Sayuri-san…" he gasped.

"Come," the tayū said as she stood and held out her hand, "your mother needs you home as soon as possible."

Taking her hand, Youjirou followed Sayuri out into the village square and gazed at the street venders and people passing by. The village was almost three times the size of his village, and it was obvious that the wealth of the inhabitants greatly surpassed that of his own people. However, even with these major differences, Youjirou yearned to return to his own village. He missed the silence and calmness of his home.

"There," Sayuri said, interrupting Youjirou's thoughts. "The doctor."

Youjirou looked over to see an old man huddled by his shop, a long European cigar clenched between his chapped thin lips. He wore an old cloak and worn down sandals, and his thick white beard fell to his chest. He looked nothing like a doctor, but more of a traveling miracle worker. The man blew white smoke in Youjirou's face as the two came up, making the kid cough violently. "What do you two want?" he asked hoarsely.

Sayuri scowled, bending down over the old man and patting his head. "Now, Takeru-kun, you wouldn't be rude to me, would you?" she asked in a childish voice.

The man's dull eyes brightened at the sound of the tayū's voice, and he let the cigar fall from his mouth in surprise. "Sayuri-san! It's been a while since you've entertained the boys; we missed you," he stated, pushing himself up to a standing position. He stood a little shorter than Sayuri, only a few inches taller than Youjirou.

"Then have more parties!" Sayuri stated. "Ever since I stopped hearing from you, I've been wondering how you've been doing. You look well."

Takeru mumbled under his breath, tossing his head this way and that. "Well, business has been, well, busy. Ever since the Shinsengumi has started to spread thin, more bandits and idiots in the villages have been acting up. I've been so busy, Sayuri-san…" His voice trailed off as he looked down to Youjirou, his bushy brows raising. "This one's not yours, is he?"

Youjirou's blue eyes widened. "Takeru-kun," Sayuri cooed, looking down to the timid boy, "he's a friend who is in need of assistance."

The man mumbled under his breath again, then knelt down so he was eye to eye with Youjirou. "Well, any friend of Sayuri's is a friend of mine," he said. "Go on, what do you need assisting with?"

Youjirou drew in a deep breath. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing, or maybe even going so far as to offer his apprenticeship to help pay. Instead, he clung tighter to Sayuri's small hand and said, "Okaasan is really sick. I wish there was some way I could pay you, but I was robbed on the road. I'm sorry, but Okaasan… she needs help."

"Where do you live?"

"In a little village, three days walk from here."

Takeru winced, drawing back and wringing his old, wrinkly hands. "Sayuri, I…" he began, turning back to the geisha. "Even if you were able to pay me, I couldn't…"

"Why not?" Sayuri asked, arching her brow.

"Word has it that there was an attack led by the Ishin Shishi… it's pretty dangerous, and besides that, I'm incredibly busy."

Sayuri, her brow furrowed and lips tightened in a scowl, stomped on the smoking cigar which lay at Takeru's feet. "You obviously have enough time to take a smoke break, and if the Ishin Shishi were out and about, why didn't they stop my carriage? We got here without any trouble."

"Sayuri-san, I don't mean-"

Without a word, Sayuri turned away, saying to Youjirou, "Let's go. I have another friend in town we can speak to."

"Ma'am, are you alright?! We need to get you to the infirmary! You're wounded!"

Both Sayuri and Youjirou turned from the doctor at the loud commotion in time to see a crowd forming in the street. Sayuri's brow furrowed. "What on earth is going on?" she asked as she slowly turned and gracefully moved towards the inner part of the village.

Youjirou quickly jumped to his feet, following Sayuri into the dense crowd and pushing his way through to the center. A horse tossed its head nervously as it pawed at the ground, a high pitched whinny puffing its dark cheeks. Just as Youjirou got close enough to see, the crowd packed in tightly before him, cutting him off. With a determined scowl, Youjirou dropped down on all fours and maneuvered between the legs of the crowd. Finally, after pushing to the front, Youjirou's blue eyes widened at the sight of the injured woman on the ground.

"H-hina-san!"

The young wife looked up, a weak smile on her dirty and bloodied face. "You-chan," she said with a low rasp. "You're here…"

Kneeling down by Hina, Youjirou softly took her hand in an attempt to help her up. "What happened?! Is Okaasan okay?!"

Hina's wide eyes blurred with tears before she covered her face in her scarred hands and sobbed. "The village… it's been destroyed…"

Youjirou's face went blank. "W-what…?"

"The Ishin Shishi… they heard the Shinsengumi were coming to our village. They ambushed us. I… I've been riding non-stop for two days. You-chan… there are no survivors…"

Youjirou felt his heart begin to break into pieces, his tiny chest constricting with anguish. "O-okaasan is…?"

Hina nodded. "Hai."

Sayuri knelt down beside Youjirou, her soft touch startling him. "You-chan… I'm sorry," she whispered with sincerity.

The boy remained paralyzed with grief as Hina's words had yet to fully sink in. The old women, Ran and Kotone… he would never see them at the river again. And the children, Kaoru and the others… he would never be able to make up that one last game of ball. Okaasan… even if Youjirou had been able to bring back the doctor, it would have been too late. His fists tightened on his knees until his knuckles turned white. "O…Okaasan…"

"You-chan," Sayuri rasped, her fingers soft on his face. "I know your mother would be proud. Your journey is finished. You can cry."

And he did.


	6. Chapter 6

"How is she doing, Takeru-kun?"

The doctor grimaced, his furrowed brow forming creases on his wrinkly forehead. "Better today, though she still has trouble eating and talking. Whatever bastard did this to her did a number on her face and neck. She won't be a pretty face to look at anymore."

Sayuri let out a deep sigh of relief. "As long as she lives through this, beauty won't matter," she replied coolly. "If anything, she should consider herself lucky."

Takeru nodded in understanding, drawing a European cigar from the folds of his sleeves and holding it to Sayuri. "I don't have a light; I think better when I've had a smoke."

The tayū shook her head, pushing the cigar away and stating, "You'll ruin your health with that; your teeth have started to rot out."

"Agh, just trying to lighten the mood a bit," Takeru mumbled as he stuffed the cigar back in his sleeve. "The atmosphere in the clinic has been very… depressing. Not a day has gone by that I don't see that little boy sitting outside my clinic all gloomy and such. Has he gotten any better?"

Sayuri looked over Takeru's shoulder to see Youjirou huddled by Hina's bed, his knees drawn to his chest and eyes gazing sadly from under thick bangs. "I've never seen a child lose a mother before," she began hesitantly, "it pains me."

"What does he plan to do now?"

"He wants to go back to the village to give his mother a proper burial," came the reply.

Takeru's dark eyes widened. "What? He can't go back! The Ishin Shishi is roaming out and about, so going out on the open road would be like looking for trouble!"

Sayuri gently placed a slender finger over the doctor's lips, silencing him. "I know," she whispered, "but he's determined. He was once the man of the family with his father gone; now he must become the man of his village and uphold the honor of a wanderer. He has a hard path laid out before him now."

The doctor opened his mouth to protest, but then exhaled sharply as he ran his old fingers through his thinning hair. "He's having to grow up to fast," he said through clenched teeth. "It just isn't right. Can't you take him in?"

"You know I can't do that, Takeru-kun. I'm a geisha, and geisha do not have children unless they are married and retired. I'm still in my prime, and if I took You-chan in, my danna will have nothing to do with me, and then where will the money come from to support us?" After saying this, Sayuri lowered her gaze to her socked feet and let out a deep breath. "I wish I could take him in, though… it seems like it would be the right thing to do."

Takeru smiled weakly, patting Sayuri lightly on the shoulder. "It will all pass," he stated with confidence. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to close for the night. You-chan can return in the morning to visit Hina."

"Arigatou, Takeru-kun," Sayuri said humbly, bending her knees and bowing low until her nose nearly touched the ground. "Your kindness is greatly appreciated." Then she stood straight, taking small steps towards where Youjirou sat before kneeling beside him. "You-chan, Takeru-kun is closing for the night. We need to go," she said gently.

Youjirou didn't respond; he just stared straight ahead, his blue eyes a blend or hate and sadness sparkling in them. Finally, he looked up to Sayuri as if he didn't notice her standing there before. "Hina-san hasn't spoken since that day," he mumbled sadly.

Sayuri grimaced, gently placing her hand on the boy's head and saying, "She'll be better soon; Takeru-kun told me."

"Have I failed?"

The geisha held her breath, her face fringing with fear as Youjirou looked up to her with a pale and grievous expression. For a while, they were silent, his eyes searching Sayuri's face for any answer or encouragement. Then the tayū got the courage to speak, saying, "No, you haven't failed. If anything, you did all you could. Fate has changed your course."

"I hate fate… I hate it that I wasn't there to protect her…" Youjirou's frail voice trailed off as he held his trembling hand before his face. "I can still feel her warmth beside me… the kindness of her hands guiding me… I wish my hands were kind…"

"But they are," Sayuri interjected, taking Youjirou's small hand in hers and holding out his fingers. "Do you see this line?" she asked, pointing to the curve under Youjirou's index finger.

"… hai," the boy replied as he narrowed his eyes to see the faint line in his hand.

"That is called the 'Ring of Solomon'. This tells someone how they act for the good of others. Yours says that you live to help those around you. And this," Sayuri pointed to another line, a longer crease that ran nearly the width of Youjirou's palm, "is your 'Line of Heart'. This says you are a very loving person. Now, how could a loving boy who did everything he could to save his mother not be kind?"

Tears welled up in Youjirou's eyes; although he had cried several times over the past couple of days, these were the first tears of relief. The geisha's superstitions had given him some form of comfort, though it didn't stop his tears from coming. Youjirou clung tightly to Sayuri's kimono, stifling his sniffles and whimpers against the silk. "I couldn't save her…" he repeated over and over again, "I couldn't save her…"

Sayuri gently took Youjirou's hand, helping him to his feet as she said, "She is in a better place now, with no pain and no tears. She wouldn't want you to cry over her death." Taking a small handkerchief from beneath the uraeri of her kimono, Sayuri patted away the tears which streaked Youjirou's cheeks. Then she flashed a reassuring smile, adding, "As soon as Hina-chan is recovered, I'll arrange for you both to be taken to your village. After that, however, I need to get started back to Kyoto; my okiya misses me."

"Hai… arigatou, Sayuri-san," Youjirou sniffled while holding back tears.

Before slipping their sandals on, Sayuri looked out to see that it had turned suddenly dark and rainy outside. "Takeru-kun, do you have a spare umbrella?" she asked, turning to the doctor.

"By the door," Takeru replied. "You can keep it; a patient left it there six weeks ago."

"Arigatou, Takeru-kun. For everything."

Now huddled under the small umbrella, Youjirou and Sayuri quickly made their way through the muddy roads towards the small inn they were staying. Though the thick shoes Sayuri wore forced her to take smaller steps, she still moved as fast as Youjirou. Nearing the dimly lit inn, the two caught sight of a man stumbling in the darkness, his heavy breaths and coughs clearly heard through the midst of the storm. Sayuri paused for a moment, studying the man intently. "He doesn't look drunk…" she muttered to herself. Then she walked Youjirou to the door of the inn, saying, "Stay here."

Youjirou watched in confusion as Sayuri ran back out to the man, the words that passed between them lost in the sloshing of the mud and pellets of rain hitting the tile roofs. After a few minutes, Sayuri and the stranger were coming towards the inn, the geisha holding the man's arm tightly as he slipped in the mud. Once inside, the man slumped against the wood wall, gasping heavily for breath. Youjirou stared up at the stranger, his brow furrowed.

_I've seen him before…_

"Youjirou, this is Hideki. He was wounded by the Ishin Shishi a day's walk from here. Can you stay with him while I go Takeru?" the geisha asked breathlessly.

"I told you, it was just a minor wound. I can take care of it myself," the man interjected before coughing violently.

Sayuri wouldn't have any excuses, however. "I've seen enough suffering and pain over the course of this week! If you die from infection or bad karma, don't blame me, but I will make sure you are looked at!"

Before the man could retort, Sayuri had turned on her heel and was stamping back towards the clinic, her hair frizzed from the humidity and mud caking the bottom of her expensive kimono.

The woman was determined.

With a sigh, the man looked back to Youjirou, saying, "I guess I have to do what she says…"

Youjirou didn't reply for a long while; instead, he was studying the man, the question in his mind running endless through his thoughts. He didn't look much older than Sayuri, maybe thirty or so. The man's black hair had been dampened from the rain, the strands of thin bangs sticking to his forehead. His short ponytail was tied messily back, which now slopped down over one shoulder. What struck Youjirou as odd was the shape of the man's eyes; they were narrow, much like his were, but dark like Sayuri's. The hakama and robes he wore were very casual; boring, actually. However, Youjirou caught a glimpse of bright blue fabric peeking out from under the man's over-robe.

"You're a member of the Shinsengumi, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.

The man's muscles tightened, his dark eyes glaring down at Youjirou. "You saw?" he asked, hiding away the uniform. "Please don't tell your lady-friend. I'm being hunted, you see. I need to leave as soon as I can before the Ishin Shishi get here."

"Do you know a woman named Akidzuki Miku?"

Backing away, the man's brow furrowed as his face contorted with shock and confusion. Then he laughed, saying, "Where are you coming up with all these sudden questions, kid? It's like you know me or something. Then again…" Taking Youjirou by the shoulders, the man pushed him back towards the light so as to get a better look at his face. At first, the man was silent as he stared harshly at Youjirou, making the boy feel uneasy. Then the man's face softened. "You have her eyes," he commented softly as he pushed away the thick brown bangs from Youjirou's face. "Y-youjirou? Is that you?"

"Hai… Otoosan…"


	7. Chapter 7

The night was still dark and rainy by the time Takeru finished cleaning Hideki's wound and began stitching the red, swollen flesh back together. Hideki was lucky, the doctor had said. Besides small cuts and hard bruising here and there, the samurai's most serious injury was the large gash across the back of his knee. "It's a miracle you didn't bleed out everywhere," Takeru commented as he gently weaved a needle in and out of Hideki's leg, "they almost got a major artery."

Hideki chuckled, his voice muffled by the pillow as he turned his head. "As long as I'm not dead on the side of the road, I'm content," he replied.

"What happened?" Sayuri asked, a curios cock to her arched brow.

"It's… a bit of a long story. I'll keep it short," Hideki started with a grunt as he hoisted himself up on his elbows. "The Shinsengumi began to disband after the Ikedaya fire incident, though a group stayed within Kyoto for safety measures. I was on my way home with Keisuke when some runaways from the Ishin Shish attacked us. My friend was dragged away, and, as you can see, I barely made it out alive. I have no idea if Keisuke is alive or not."

Youjirou raised his head slightly, his eyes slowly tearing up. "Keisuke… you mean Hina-san's husband," he muttered.

"Yes," Hideki replied with downcast eyes. "Poor Hina… to become a widow at such a young age… I can only imagine the look on her face when I tell her."

"I'll be imagining the look on your face when you see Hina," Takeru grunted. "It appears that misfortune can strike someone more than once."

Hideki laughed nervously, his brow furrowed and lips turned up into an uncertain smile. "What do you mean? Do you even know Hina and her husband?"

Sayuri sighed, her smooth face contorted with anxiety. "Hideki-san, your village was attacked by the Ishin Shishi a few days ago. Hina's face has been badly disfigured."

At first, the expression on Hideki's young face was one of confusion, but then his features sharpened with anger as pain rose up inside his chest. "Shit!" he shouted, pounding his fist into the ground. "Then… that means… Miku…" He turned to Youjirou, his eyes wide. "Miku… is dead?"

Youjirou didn't have to answer; the sadness in his blue eyes told his father everything. Hideki lowered his head to the pillow, hiding his face as he ran his long fingers apprehensively through his hair. "How long were you planning on waiting to tell me?"

"We didn't mean to keep it a secret," Sayuri said quickly, her hand soft on Hideki's shoulder.

"If… if only I had gotten home in time…" Youjirou heard his father mutter into the pillow.

"She got sick after you left," Youjirou said stiffly. "She was dying even before the village was attacked."

The room fell silent, save for the hard gasps between Hideki's sobs. Sayuri motioned to Takeru, who raised his bushy brow quizzically. "What?" the doctor asked once the geisha had pulled him to his feet.

"Sayuri-san?" Youjirou asked when he saw the woman lean over him.

"Stay here with your father," the geisha murmured, "he needs you to help him get back up on his feet."

"Datte…" Youjirou began, but already Sayuri and Takeru had disappeared behind the sliding screen. For a long while, he sat silently, staring blankly to his father's weeping form. He didn't know what to say, nor how to reconcile with the father he hadn't seen for over a year. Had Hideki not left, the Okaasan wouldn't have gotten sick with grief; had Hideki made it home in time before the Ishin Shishi, then maybe Okaasan would still be alive, even if she was barely clinging to life. Still, had Hideki just _been _there, none of this would have happened.

When Hideki finally sat up again, his eyes were red with tears, and his black hair was disheveled about his shoulders. He caught his son's hard stare, but he didn't get upset or offended; he seemed to understand what Youjirou was thinking. "You blame me for her death, don't you?" he asked shakily. "I won't blame you if you do. I wasn't there for Miku when she needed me, and I wasn't much of a father to you. Gomen."

The boy didn't answer, but instead looked away quickly, his blue eyes gazing upon his father's katana. "Did you have to kill anyone's mother?" he asked suddenly.

Hideki was slightly startled by his son's question. "No," he answered, "I've never killed a woman.

"Then why did Okaasan die? Why did you have to kill her?"

"Had I known she would have gotten sick, I wouldn't have gone! I left for my country, Youjirou. When you're older, you'll understand," Hideki stated.

Youjirou's nose wrinkled as a scowl formed on his face. "Why am I without a mother?! Out of all the people you've killed, why am I the one who has to hurt?!"

Hideki lurched forward suddenly, gripping Youjirou's shoulders tightly. The boy was frightened at first, but he saw in his father's eyes only sadness, not anger. "Youjirou, listen to me. I… I just lost my wife, my home, and my friends. My son doesn't have faith in me. I go to sleep every night in fear that the Ishin Shishi will kill me. I didn't know this would happen when I left; if I did, I wouldn't have gone."

Youjirou was silent, his eyes wide and lower lip trembling. He sniffled, pulling away from his father to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall down his face. "Okaasan gave up nearly six months ago," he began slowly. "She sent letters to you; why didn't you come then?"

The samurai sighed. "I kept every letter Miku sent me; I must have read them all a dozen times each. I tried to come back; I begged my leader, thought of ways to steal away from the Shinsengumi… but I couldn't… I tried, Youjirou. Trust me." Then he pulled Youjirou closer, setting his son on his lap and tightly embracing him. "Please, just have a little faith in me."

At first, Youjirou felt awkward with his father's arms wrapped unyieldingly around him, but he soon remembered the times over the years that he sat in Hideki's lap. It was comforting. "Otoosan…" he sniffled, leaning his head against his father's chest. Hideki's heart beat was so strong against his ear, the hard thumping slowly lulling the boy to sleep.

Hideki smiled weakly, closing his eyes and tightening his embrace around his son. "Arigatou, Youjirou. Arigatou."

"Otoosan… do you still sing?"

"A little, though not as well as your mother," came the soft reply.

"Do… do you remember the song she used to sing?"

A quiet chuckle escaped Hideki's lips. "Of course I do." He leaned back, stretching out his stitched-up leg and rocking slightly as his tenor voice filled the small room with the sweet melody:

"Hitotsu, higure ni gan kakete  
Futatsu, fudasho ni tsukimisou  
Mittsu, misora ga akeru koro  
Yottsu, yonaki no ko wo oute  
Itsutsu, itsumade tsukeba yoi  
Muttsu, mukae ni konu haha ni  
Nanatsu, naisho de uramigoto  
Yattsu, yamanba konu uchi ni  
Kokonotsu, ko wo sute yama koete  
Too de onigo ni narimashita"

The last few words Hideki sang were shaky, almost choked up. When Youjirou looked up to his father's face with tired eyes, he thought he saw a few tears glisten as they lined Hideki's face.


End file.
